


leave the light on.

by curseandtell



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Slow Burn, Witchcraft, Witches, the slowest of burns probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:07:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19737988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curseandtell/pseuds/curseandtell
Summary: Set after episode 20/end of part 2. A High Priestess needs her Queen. Zelda seeks Lilith's guidance, and Lilith provides.





	1. ask, and ye shall receive.

**Author's Note:**

> hi hello, i have no idea what i'm doing! my girlfriend inspired me to write a "zilith" (yep, that's what we call them) fic and so i'm just kind of going off the top of my brain here. i'm much more acquainted with zelda than lilith so apologies if lilith sounds a little off. feedback welcomed and appreciated, so long as it is presented kindly! many thanks.  
> also, just for clarification, this is a zelda/lilith thing that doesn't involve mary wardwell per se, but the tagging system wouldn't let me tag it without mary in there too, so... yeah.  
> hilda and sabrina will pop up next chapter :)  
> xoxo - c

The Church of Lilith had been, more or less, established in the mortuary’s living room (an oxymoron, which Zelda had thought hundreds of times and over which Hilda continued to quietly giggle when she believed herself not to be overheard). Those displaced by the fall of the Church of Night were yet to find another suitable house of worship, and so that very living room itself became a sort of sanctuary. A very unholy place, indeed, right in the heart of the Spellman family home.

And befitting, too, for also in that home resided the Church of Lilith’s self-proclaimed High Priestess. 

The title was repeated, respected, revered by others but Zelda knew deep in the well of her heart and the fiber of her bones that she would not be truly satisfied until somehow, some way, it was made official. She wanted the real deal, same as Edward had, same as Faustus Blackwood had. To serve as High Priestess was an honor meant to be earned and maintained and cultivated, not simply bestowed upon oneself by default.

She had to seek her Queen’s blessing. Or… unblessing, as it were.

The first successful summoning came to fruition just as the witching hour edged to a close, one cold Greendale night. Zelda Spellman found herself wiping away tears even as she stared, perplexed, at the sight of the woman she knew as Mary Wardwell. The demon registered the shock in the witch’s eyes and assured her, in a voice soft enough to soothe but powerful enough to cause each candle flame in the room to quiver, that this was neither a mistake nor a trick. Bringing back the real Mary Wardwell had not taken her form from the demon but created, instead, a sort of doppelgänger effect. Lilith appeared to Zelda now exactly the way she looked just before descending into Hell; pale skin, large almond eyes, ruby-red lips, long dark hair falling in waves not dissimilar to Zelda’s own. And somehow, that made the whole thing easier. Pleading her case to a Lilith who appeared human was preferable to an alternative Zelda had not even dared to imagine, and that was exactly what the witch found herself doing. 

Lilith, Queen of Hell, did not so much as bat an eye while Zelda spoke. From her velvet cloak she pulled a small dagger, the blade of which she used to slice a cut across her forearm. The demon’s blood flowed so dark it appeared black, and Zelda’s words trailed off as she watched it glisten on the knife’s edge. Lilith’s wound began to heal as she pressed the cold steel against Zelda’s forehead, so that her blood left a crimson-onyx smudge just below the other woman’s hairline.

“I hereby anoint you, High Priestess Spellman,” she said, “First of her name, in the Unholy Church of Lilith.” 

Zelda dropped to her knees out of pure instinct, deflecting to her Queen as she knew she ought to have done from the start. 

“No need for that,” chided Lilith, “You’ve proven your devotion well beyond gestures of formality. Furthermore, no witch will _ever_ need kneel before me. That sort of idol worship is part of what brought down our male predecessors, is it not?”

“It is,” Zelda breathed out, laboring to her feet as quickly as she could. “And you’re correct, we should aim to be more progressive than those who came before.”

The demon’s lips curved into a grin. She wiped her blade clean on the edge of her cloak and tucked it away once more. “We already are.”

That earned from Zelda a similar smile, though she swore her heart was pounding so fiercely it dared to leap out of her chest. Composure was key, she knew, and so she tried to wrangle hers into submission as best she could. She lifted her chin, attempted to tame her beaming grin into a more neutral expression and gave a singular, curt nod. “What, if anything, would you have me do to further the spiritual growth of the coven? I have… concerns, at times, that some of our younger sister witches may not be taking their studies as seriously as they should.”

“Let your instincts serve you, Zelda. You’ve taught before, you can teach again. And you know how fickle young witches can be—-you were once one yourself, after all, and look how well you turned out in the end.”

Blush warmed Zelda’s cheeks; she felt validation same as when Faustus would compliment her, except in this case she did not feel smugly satisfied, just… well, satisfied. And maybe even a little flattered, though that was surely misplaced. Faustus _had_ meant to flatter her, for he had been manipulating her all along and she had fallen for it hook, line, and sinker even when she believed herself to be two steps ahead. What had Lilith to gain from running a similar scheme?

“You think I ought to let them explore at their own pace, then?”

“Yes,” came Lilith’s confirmation, “A little… exploration. Allow yourself a period of adjustment, too.” Her cold hand came to rest on Zelda’s shoulder. “You’ve been through so much.” She drew the witch close enough to press a chaste kiss to the crown of her head, and then she was gone.


	2. in the still of the night

The Queen’s words did not go unnoticed. 

Zelda lay awake long after that visit ended, heart pounding with leftover adrenaline and newly emerging nerves, for she had not yet given proper consideration to the undeniable fact that she had, indeed, been through a great ordeal. Her unholy marriage to Faustus and his subsequent manipulative abuse; the dissolution of the only Church to which she had ever belonged and also to which she had wholly and completely dedicated herself for centuries… and last but certainly not least, the hard truth that Sabrina was something not even Zelda herself could have predicted. Edward had lied—-technically by omission but very certainly on purpose—-and that left perhaps the biggest scar, for Zelda’s belief in her brother lasted their entire lives and even beyond his death.

Sabrina was not by blood a true Spellman, but if Edward had so readily given his wife to the Dark Lord for the purpose of producing a child then the Spellman name, Zelda thought, no longer meant anything at all. Restoring the family legacy held no appeal, for there was no legacy to speak of. Edward was a liar, a fraud, and Zelda shuddered to think of the pedestal on which she had continued to place him all those years. 

It hurt, it ached deep down in the pit of her stomach and radiated up into her chest. There was no getting around the pain, no way to magically banish or purge it. Still awake when the clock struck four, Zelda sat up in bed, dropped her head into her hands and allowed herself, for the first time, to sob over what she had lost, what she could not control, and what could never be. 

_______________________________

A certain chill in the air (the sort brought about by a centuries-long bond between sisters) roused Hilda Spellman half an hour earlier than her alarm clock was set to ding. The hardwood was cold on her bare feet before she slid into her slippers and began to pad softly down the hall toward the room that now belonged solely to Zelda. 

Well. _Mostly_ to Zelda. Sometimes Hilda still slept there, in her old bed, if she’d stayed up watching the Saturday late-night B-list horror movie on the downstairs television. 

“Zelds?” 

A faint light shown under the door; she knew that her sister had not yet even attempted sleep for the candles lit nightly were no doubt still burning. Pushing the door open a smidge revealed one distraught witch, indeed.

Zelda, for her part, did not so much as raise her head. How she detested to be seen this way, vulnerable and helpless, lost and unraveled. If anyone did have to witness her in such a state, though, she would always choose her sister, no contest.

“There, now,” Hilda was at her side already, tucking her close the same as she would Sabrina or Ambrose. “What’s the trouble?”

“I’ve been named High Priestess,” Zelda heard herself wail, the words garbled into her sister’s shoulder, “I summoned Lilith, downstairs, and she—-anointed me—-and I—-” Her breath came faster and faster as the truth tumbled out, “—-I—-”

“Slow down, love,” Hilda urged, patting Zelda’s back gentle and soothing, “When you say _anointed_ …”

The crimson-onyx blood still stained her forehead, visible once she pushed back a fallen curl. “It’s official,” Zelda murmured, as though in a dream, tears still shining in her eyes. “I… I’ve restored glory to our name, Hilda, but it doesn’t… it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?”

“Zelds,” Hilda repeated, voice very soft, “Come, now, what you need is to lie down, turn out the lights and get some sleep. You’re not making half a lick of sense, summoning Lilith in the living room—-”

“I _did_ ,” insisted Zelda, “Forgive me, I… I’m simply overwhelmed, that’s all.” She straightened her spine, jerking abruptly from her sister’s comforting embrace. Just like that, the facade began to pull together. Her expression grew steely, tone of voice following suit. “You can go, I… I’ll blow out the candles and try to sleep. Wake me at eight, will you?”

Eight seemed awfully early, thought Hilda, for someone who was wide awake at half past four, but she knew just as well not to argue with her sister.

“Very well,” she sighed, shuffling to her feet, “I’ll have your coffee brewed up. You’ll need it.”

Once the door closed behind Hilda, Zelda drew in a deep, grounding breath in attempt to will away the wash of emotion that had taken hold of her mind and body. With a wave of her hand, each candle in the room went dark, one by one, and the witch lay down to fall into a sleep so deep it took Hilda several tries to rise her at the promised hour. 

The Queen of Hell’s mark was still stark and slightly shimmering on Zelda’s alabaster skin that morning, a badge of pride and honor well earned. The High Priestess did not wash it off, nor did she attempt to cover it with her usual powders and potions. Her hair naturally fell in such a way as to obscure the stain, but she knew it was there and so long as it remained, she felt a sense of security the likes of which she had never before known.


	3. toil and trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chock full of plot, or at least... i tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so obviously we don't yet know exactly where blackwood fled, nor what happened when/if ambrose and prudence reached him, so clearly i've taken some liberties with this chapter just for the sake of moving the story along. again, feedback encouraged and appreciated! xoxo, c

Somewhere very far away, Ambrose Spellman and Prudence Night found themselves up to their ears in deep, dark, and undeniable trouble. Unabashed confidence and a certain shared penchant for vengeance had fueled their quest to seek out Faustus Blackwood, for one purpose and one purpose only. 

_The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry,_ Ambrose could hear his Aunt Hilda’s voice echoing over and over in his head. Even if she had never spoken that cliché phrase aloud, he imagined it was what she might say were she able to see him now. His Aunt Zelda, on the other hand, would certainly have choice words that were far less kind and genial.

Why Blackwood had not simply killed them upon discovering them lying in wait outside his newly constructed Church of Judas was a mystery. He was more than capable of doing just that without so much as blinking an eye or thinking twice—-even though Prudence remained his flesh and blood—-but instead he gave the order for a group of his henchmen to subdue the pair, divest them of their weaponry and bring them to his residence post haste. Baby Judas and Baby Judith needed a nanny, after all; Prudence was to fill that position. Ambrose was questioned at length about the present goings-on in Greendale, and that questioning continued despite his (entirely true) declarations that he knew nothing of what was happening in Greendale. No word of Sabrina, Lilith, and more specifically, his Aunt Zelda, had made its way to him during his travels. Kept in place by a binding spell, one that allowed free movement within certain parameters and barred it once those parameters were crossed, Ambrose endured the same line of inquisition day after day. Blackwood was trying to break him down, that much was clear, never mind his insistence that whatever information being sought was nowhere to be found in the first place. 

At last, a deal was struck. Ambrose, under the watchful eyes of two Judas boys, was to travel to Greendale for a short check-in via astral projection, all in the name of obtaining what essentially boiled down to gossip. Around his neck Faustus Blackwood had placed an enchanted amulet which would allow the former High Priest to spy on his every move, word, and action. This was not really and truly a _deal_ , of course, because Faustus and only Faustus would receive any profit. 

Or so he thought.

Ambrose popped into the Spellman kitchen rather suddenly but quite purposefully at suppertime, for he knew neither of his aunties ever missed a meal. Right as rain, there was his Aunt Hilda ladling out vegetable soup and his Aunt Zelda, always impatient, helping herself to a premature dinner roll. 

Their shock at his arrival was evident; Hilda’s ladle plopped into the pot with enough force to splash a couple of errant carrots onto the stove, and Zelda’s mouth froze mid-chew.

“Aunties,” he began, mindful of his words and tone for he knew how carefully Blackwood was monitoring the scene, “I didn’t mean to startle you, I… I only wanted to stop in and say hello.” _Right, Ambrose, as though that wasn’t awkward enough…_

“Hello,” said Zelda in a very _Zelda_ sort of way, “And it’s about time. We were beginning to wonder whether you and Prudence had run off to elope or something equally ridiculous.” A beat, and then: “You haven’t, have you?”

“No, Auntie Zee, nothing… nothing quite like that.” He was beginning to downright panic, at least, on the inside. Somehow, some way, he needed to let his aunts know that all was not well. “We’re, ah…” His improv skills were sadly and sorely lacking, especially under a copious amount of pressure. 

Zelda’s eyes narrowed to a curious squint, and Hilda’s head cocked to the side in the same manner. 

“You aren’t in a spot of trouble, are you?” Hilda ventured to ask, beating her sister to the punch.

“No,” Ambrose answered, far too quickly, “No, Aunt Hilda, we’re taking some extra time to travel, that’s all. Enjoying the countryside, Prudence has never been out this way and I…” Something caught his eye, and though he knew staring at his Aunt Zelda was never a good idea, he couldn’t help it. “Auntie Zee, are you—-bleeding?”

Hilda looked to her sister with a nearly frantic gaze until she realized what exactly Ambrose meant. 

“For Lilith’s sake, no,” Zelda huffed out. She could not have sounded more pressed and inconvenienced if she tried—-but again, that was par for the course. Graceful as ever, she simply tossed her head once and the Queen’s onyx mark was covered by a perfectly finger-waved auburn curl. “Since you’ve been gone so long, and insist on _staying_ as such, I may as well inform you—-so that you may inform Prudence, too—-” She lifted her chin, set down that half-eaten dinner roll in the most dignified way possible and looked her nephew directly in the eye. “I have been named High Priestess of the newly formed _Church_ of Lilith, appointed and anointed by the Queen herself.”

Ambrose could feel his heart threatening to beat out of his chest, blood pressure rising along with panic-driven adrenaline. _Shit shit shit shit, stop talking, Auntie Zee,_ he wanted to say, except of course he absolutely could not say that or anything close to it. There was the information Blackwood sought, out in the open, no taking it back. 

He gulped hard. “That’s… incredible, Auntie, I couldn’t be more proud of you or more thrilled on your behalf. You deserve such an honor.” 

That garnered from Zelda a genuine cat-who-caught-the-canary grin. “When can we expect you and Prudence back home? We need you both. Agatha and Dorcas have been worried sick, never mind your Aunt Hilda and myself.”

“And Sabrina?” Ambrose couldn’t help but ask, knowing he would undoubtedly suffer some miserable punishment otherwise. 

Hilda opened her mouth to answer, but Zelda cut her off. “Sabrina is thriving,” she said, “Back at Baxter High, but studying under my tutelage here at home as well.”

“And mine,” Hilda piped up, “Until we’re able to get a proper school up and running, it’s classes in the greenhouse and out on the cemetery grounds for a change of pace—-weather permitting on that last one, of course.”

“You could certainly put your knowledge to use in instructing younger members of the coven.” Zelda had turned to fully face him, arms propped on the back of her chair. “Do ask Prudence to write her sisters, please. They’re in dire straits without her and I hate to see them suffer so.” 

Ambrose could only nod once, stunned by what he was hearing and what he was powerless to stop. “I’ll do that.” His astral energy was beginning to fade; he could feel his reserves draining and knew he had to make a move, even if doing so damned him beyond all reasonable means. 

“Don’t suppose you’re able to stay for dinner?” Hilda wanted to know, earnest as ever. 

It rent his heart in two, knowing he had no choice but to deny her. “I’m afraid I can’t, Aunt Hilda, but I…” His voice began to break, and then… then it dawned on him. “I have to be going.” As he spoke, his fingers gripped the amulet tight, and he shifted his gaze to make direct eye contact with his Aunt Zelda.

She stared at him more suspiciously than ever, a look that under any other circumstance would have made him wilt, but he held strong, practically pleading with her to understand. Any telepathic capabilities were beyond his realm, but Zelda was powerful enough to divine the object’s origin…

The wave of energy radiating from that amulet, dark and brooding and overpowering and _oh, so familiar_ , slammed into Zelda’s chest with the weight of a cement block and then some. 

_Faustus._ The name almost escaped her throat, her lips but she kept it back, knowing far better than to dare take that risk. Instead, she simply gave Ambrose a curt nod, holding her composure as best she could for she was entirely positive they were being surveilled.

“Thank you for visiting,” she managed to channel her usual crisp, collected tone, “Do pass on our sentiments to Prudence, and enjoy the rest of your rather extended holiday.” Even as she spoke, she could feel Faustus watching her. Seeing through her. What she had done in the name of gaining power she would never, ever forgive herself for. It had only cost her in the end; robbed her of her self-agency and a fair amount of dignity and much, much more. Her stomach felt suddenly sick; she no longer had any appetite for Hilda’s vegetable soup or even her beloved dinner rolls.

Satisfied that they had reached an understanding, Ambrose said his goodbyes and returned to his body, far and away. 

“Zelda,” Hilda said very softly, “You’ve gone pale as a ghost, are you—-”

Again, Zelda preempted her. “ _Fine_ ,” she practically barked, “I’m fine. It’s Ambrose and Prudence we ought to be concerned about. That pendant Ambrose wore—-” She nearly choked on the words, belying her true condition, “—-It belongs to Faustus. He has them, he’s got them wherever he’s fled off to and we have to find them before he…” Reality was setting in; she realized she had given herself away, fully and completely with barely any prodding. “Before he declares war on our Church, or worse.” 

“He wouldn’t dare.” 

The voice came from the front room, where Lilith’s form soon appeared, dressed in the same crushed velvet cloak she had worn the previous night. Dark hair tumbled from her hood once she pushed the fabric back, and a stifled little gasp sounded from Hilda.

“Your—-your Majesty,” Hilda stammered, only for the Queen to gently but firmly shush her.

“None of that,” said Lilith, voice equal parts smooth and stern, “We are all sister witches, and we will treat each other as such.”

Hilda merely nodded. 

“Zelda,” the Queen had turned her attention to her High Priestess, who looked stricken and ashen, still seated in a kitchen chair. “You called?”

Zelda could only blink. Her head felt fuzzy, light, and disoriented. “I…”

“Let me rephrase: I felt a shift in your energy that indicated my particular brand of services would be better utilized right here, right now.” A way of saying _you needed me_ that Lilith knew for a fact would not make the witch run for the hills.

“We have… reason to believe Faustus has Ambrose and Prudence captive,” the words tumbled from Zelda’s lips in an uncharacteristic rush, “Ambrose astral-projected here and Faustus must have ordered him to gain information and I… I gave us away before I knew, before I realized…” All at once, Lilith’s hands enveloped her cheeks, their coolness refreshing and grounding. “I’m sorry,” Zelda squeaked out, “The last thing I wanted was to provoke him, or to cause trouble for you and our coven.”

“Faustus Blackwood poses no threat to me, nor to you or your sister or your niece or anyone else under this roof. I’ll handle him, and bring back Ambrose and Prudence as soon as I’m able.”

And that was when, for reasons unknown, the realization clicked. “We’re still married under witch law,” Zelda blurted out, “He could… he wants to ruin me, I’m certain of it.” 

“Breathe,” came Lilith’s instruction, and the witch did as she was told. “That is nothing that can’t be undone, and in your right mind, you know that. Do you trust me, High Priestess Spellman?”

Swallowing against a lump in her throat, Zelda nodded. “I do.”

“Then trust that I’ll protect you.” Hands still firmly planted on either side of Zelda’s face, Lilith glanced over at Hilda, who looked about as gobsmacked as any human being possibly could. “I know how loyal you are, Sister Hilda, and I assume I can in turn trust that _you_ will watch out for your sister and your coven, yes?”

Hilda’s answer was almost inaudible, a single small syllable: “Yes.”

Attention turned back to Zelda, Lilith spoke soothingly but with absolute purpose. “You will keep three candles lit in each room of this house at all times, until I tell you otherwise. I can keep my eye on you that way—-with your permission, of course. Will you allow it?”

“Of course,” Zelda agreed, still attempting to right her breathing. The comfort that idea brought was… staggering, and she did not yet know just how to process what she felt. “Thank you,” was what she did manage, looking directly into Lilith’s eyes.

Only then did the Queen release her, but not without a kiss to her forehead, same as the night before.

Once again Lilith was gone without a word, without any trace that she had been there, except now Hilda had seen and spoken to her as well and therefore could no longer doubt Zelda’s reported encounter.

“I don’t feel very well,” Zelda heard herself say, for it was very true. Her head still felt much too light and her stomach was not yet settled and… “I want to make an early night of it, I think.” 

“Hold your horses, love.” Hilda ambled to her side, proceeded to help her up the stairs even though Zelda very likely did not _need_ the assistance. It was the thought that counted, the worry Hilda very desperately needed to assuage on her own part. 

The candles in Zelda’s bedroom lit with a shaky wave of her hand—-one, two, and three. She dropped into bed without bothering to undress, allowing her sister to slip off her shoes only for the sake of comfort.

“Sleep tight,” said Hilda, “If you need anything, you… you know where to find me.”

“Light the candles,” Zelda murmured, already groggy, “Every room, just as Lilith asked. Tell Sabrina, too, when she gets home.”


	4. zelda's dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i titled this chapter "zelda's dream" because a) i'm bad at titles and b) there is a twin peaks episode called "cooper's dream" and if david lynch can do it, so can i.   
> feedback welcome as always!   
> xoxo,  
> c

“Stay close to me.” 

Zelda did not have to be told twice. Already holding tight to Lilith’s cloak, she could swear they were flying—-and when she looked down, she found that surely enough the ground was fast disappearing and the night sky growing ever near.

Oh, how she had dreamed of this as a little girl. Soaring high above the woods, all of Greendale turned to fairy dust at her feet (not that she ever would have _admitted_ the bit about the fairy dust, but true it was). 

Witches were supposed to be able to fly, broomstick or not. Witches were supposed to be able to divine when their loved ones were in trouble and fly to save them. Witches were supposed to defend their bloodline come Heaven or high water, because once all else was stripped away that was what they had left. Their magic, their blood, their coven.

When Zelda dared to look down once more, it was not Greendale or anything so familiar she found below. A black, glittering sea stretched out for miles and miles, far as her tired eyes could see. Lilith’s dark hair whipped about as the wind picked up and they ascended further into the inkiness above; Zelda felt drowsy and weightless and dizzy and exhilarated all at once the higher they climbed. 

“You’re taking me to Ambrose,” she murmured, “To… Ambrose and Prudence… aren’t you?”

Lilith turned around, eyes sparkling and lips red, so red, against her pale skin. “I told you where we were going, Zelda—-don’t you remember?”

She had no memory, in fact, of anything beyond being instructed to hold on tight, to stay close… and now she realized Lilith had let go when she turned to face her and they were both suspended in mid-air, Lilith floating languid and free and Zelda herself…

Flailing. Grasping for empty air, reaching for Lilith’s outstretched hands without ever making contact.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t save Ambrose, couldn’t save Prudence, couldn’t get away from Faustus Blackwood’s tyrannical game of cat and mouse all because she was not strong enough, not powerful enough. Even with a boost from the Queen of Hell, Zelda Spellman was simply not enough.

Lilith was speaking but Zelda couldn’t hear, couldn’t make out the words above the roaring in her ears and thudding in her chest as she fell. Her descent was slow, drawn-out instead of sudden, somehow worse than the alternative. 

That feeling of falling, the way one’s heart drops into one’s gut—-that was how Zelda awoke, bolting up straight with the absolute certainty she was plummeting to the ground. Concrete, perhaps, if not the damp safety of the forest floor. And yet… there was no cold concrete, no dirt. Her bed was beneath her, somehow. Sheets askew, quilt thrown over the footboard, pillow precariously wedged halfway between the mattress and headboard… and Zelda herself, drenched in a cold sweat the likes of which she had never known.

Her hands were shaking, her chest heaving, and she blindly reached for a cigarette in order to be sure she was still on solid ground. If she could light a cigarette and successfully inhale and exhale a drag she would know she was no longer dreaming. 

The clock on her bedside table read eight-thirty; somehow, she had slept for nearly twelve hours and still her body felt weak, exhausted, drained of all reasonable energy. Flashes of Lilith faded in and out of her consciousness; Lilith with those blue, blue eyes and red lips and pale hands outstretched in the night sky and Zelda grasping, grasping, unable to keep up, unable to hold on. 

Once the cigarette quieted her nerves and righted her breathing she forced herself out of bed to dress for the day, ignoring the dizziness that tugged this way and that when she moved too quickly. She managed to get into a slip, button a skirt and matching jacket with slightly steadier hands. Lilith was watching, she trusted, as she glanced around the room to find all three candles still burning bright and strong. Lilith was watching, Lilith would make good on her promise, Lilith would not leave her High Priestess to crumble all because of a silly, unfounded nightmare. Zelda sat at her vanity table, pinned her hair back and waited for a sign, a signal, something to indicate her Queen’s presence. Nothing yet. Maybe Lilith had not made her way to Ambrose. Maybe there had been a snag in the journey. Her nerves quickly rose again and she lit another cigarette, tried to compose herself before heading downstairs for breakfast. That was what she needed, Hilda would say, even though she wasn’t sure she had much of an appetite.

And Hilda, being Hilda, said almost exactly that right away. 

“I was about to come up and see what was keeping you—-” 

Turning from her place at the stove, the younger Spellman sister observed a sight rarely seen: Zelda, in full hair and makeup and immaculately dressed as usual, but otherwise looking utterly pale and unsteady on her feet. 

“—-Hellfire, Zelds, you need something to eat. You skipped dinner last night, you’re white as a sheet…”

Sabrina, seated at her usual place at the breakfast table, raised her head with a forkful of scrambled eggs in hand. Her Aunt Zelda was a staunch, strong presence, and Sabrina could not recall ever seeing her visibly under the weather at all, even with something as innocuous as a cold. This was startling to her, too, enough that she exchanged a worried glance with her Aunt Hilda (who had failed to inform Sabrina of the previous night’s events—-though unbeknownst to either aunt, Ambrose had confided in his cousin the plan hatched before he and Prudence spirited themselves away).

“Aunt Zee?” Sabrina asked, tentatively, when she noticed Zelda’s wobbly gait and the way she seemed to be grasping for the back of the nearest chair for support. “Aunt Hilda, what’s—-what’s going on?” 

“We’ve had, ah… a bit of… excitement around here the past couple of nights,” Hilda cautiously explained, all the while keeping her eyes glued to her sister. “You haven’t been home or else we would have…” _No_ , thought Hilda as her voice trailed off, _No, this is not happening, not on my bloody watch…_

Aloud, she addressed Zelda again, voice clear as she could muster through her worry. “Sit down, Zelda, for Satan’s sake.” The Satan part just, well, slipped out. Old habits die hard, after all. “And put that bloody cigarette out, it’s the last thing you—-” 

_Need._

White knuckles grasping the back of that chair lost their grip as Zelda aimed to put out her cigarette in the ashtray residing in its usual place, and she succeeded in doing that, uncharacteristically clumsy as it may have been, before she lifted her head and found the room spinning round in nauseating circles.

“Hilda, I…” She swallowed hard, suddenly afraid of being sick right then and there. “I don’t know what’s…” That awful feeling returned, the gut-twisting sensation of falling, same as she’d felt in that nightmare. Dark spots danced around the edges of her vision, persisting no matter how much she attempted to blink them away, to regain hold of her senses. Her legs gave way first, buckling as her vision finally faded to black. 

Sabrina and Hilda scrambled to catch her, to keep her from hitting the hardwood floor like a sack of potatoes but Zelda’s collapse happened in the actual blink of an eye. Both of them could only stand there, wide-eyed and shell-shocked for a second or two before jumping into action.

“Cold compress,” Hilda nearly barked at her niece, “Now, and… and call for…” Help? Who could they call for help? She looked frantically around the room, seeking out the candles she had lit upon Zelda’s request. The fire Lilith promised to use to watch over her High Priestess… One, two, and three, the flames still burned, and so Hilda hoped, hoped, hoped the Queen of Hell was tuned in.


	5. there is thunder in our hearts

Lilith could have arrived at Faustus Blackwood’s lair of exile with a bang. Could have made the earth beneath that bastard’s feet quake and split in two, if she desired, and yet… she took a more subtle approach. Showing all her cards so early on would not be wise, and therefore she chose to present herself at his doorstep with claws still sheathed. 

It was Prudence who answered when the Queen of Hell knocked, Prudence who led her into the former High Priest’s office, Prudence who remained in the doorway looking simultaneously awestruck and horrified at the impending confrontation. 

“I wondered how long it would take you to come calling,” said Blackwood, “I believe you have something that belongs to me, but I highly doubt you’ve come to return it.” 

Lilith did not allow her resolve to falter, though her nerves began to stand on end, one by one. If he was implying what she suspected… 

She simply blinked once, matching the man’s arrogant smirk with her own crooked, cocky grin. “I haven’t come to return you anything, Faustus. What is it I’ve got that you don’t?” Her voice remained cool, expression just the same as she went on to taunt him, “Is it… a functioning, thriving coven? Witches who follow Hell’s path for faith, not out of blind ignorance or fear for their lives?”

“My _wife_.”

And there it was.

Those two words, the way he said them so easily and casually, wormed their way under her skin and set her blood to boiling with anger. Still, she kept up a docile facade. “Oh, I see—-well, I do hate to be the bearer of bad tidings, but… I believe your marriage to Zelda Spellman under the Church of Night is no longer valid, now that the Church of Night is no more. That aside, she _belongs_ to no one, man or woman.”

“You’ve made her your High Priestess,” Blackwood said with a sneer, “Have you not?”

“Zelda Spellman _founded_ the Church of Lilith, therefore she is High Priestess. I would have no other witch in her place.”

“And just how well do you _know_ her, hmm? Do you know that she is out for one thing and one thing only, and that one thing is herself? Her own best interest, and to Heaven with the rest of the coven!” He still did not rise from behind his desk, though his voice was steadily building in intensity. “I was her husband, I was with her behind closed doors when no other souls, living or dead, were present and I can assure you, Lilith, you’ve made a grievous error in giving her any agency at all.” 

“I shudder to think what you _did_ to her behind closed doors, Faustus, and you possess no right to speak on the topic of agency, least of all Zelda’s.” Lilith glanced over her shoulder at poor Prudence, still plastered with fear against the doorframe. “Or that of _any_ woman—-correct, Prudence?”

“Pay her no mind, child,” Faustus ordered before Prudence could even dare to open her mouth.

“Point proven,” Lilith said with a shrug, nonchalant as could be, before she turned on her heel and waved her hand toward Prudence, murmuring an incantation under her breath. There was a spell on that poor girl, but a poorly placed spell. A spell that could be easily lifted. 

But no sooner had Lilith begun to undo the curse than a flame flickered in the corner, catching her eye. A tall, black candle burning high, wax dripping down its sides. The fire surged with energy, pulling Lilith’s attention away from Prudence and the task at hand and instead, into her own mind’s eye. There, she saw clear as day, the scene taking place in the Spellman home halfway across the country. Hilda and Sabrina were helping a weakened, pale Zelda up from the kitchen floor, a sight entirely disconcerting and distressing. 

Quick as she could, Lilith turned her focus back toward Prudence and muttered the last of the necessary words. The young witch seemed to physically snap out of whatever Blackwood had done to bind her; she reeled forward, gasping for breath as if coming up for air from underwater. 

“Run,” Lilith told her, voice lowered to a near growl, “Get outside, wait for me there. Once you’ve gotten through the door, you’ll no longer be able to enter. I’ll take you safely home, Prudence, I promise you that.” 

At that, Faustus finally stood, slamming his palms down hard atop his desk. “Prudence Blackwood, you stay right where you are.”

“My—-my sisters,” Prudence choked out, “I need them. They need _me_.” And off she went, following the Queen’s directions to the letter.

“Now where, exactly, have you got Ambrose Spellman hidden away?” Lilith demanded to know, setting her palms flat on the other side of the desk to match the man’s stance. “So sorry to free another witch from your clutches and run, but I’m working on a rather pressed schedule and time is of the essence.”

“So _that_ is what has brought you here. At Zelda’s behest, I’m sure?” Faustus laughed and settled back into his chair, thumbs steepled under his chin. “Ambrose is… indisposed, at the moment. I’m afraid the only witch capable of coming to rescue him is his aunt. Or, rather—-the only feasible option for his release hinges on her. Send your High Priestess—-my wife—-to meet me in my chambers, alone. I want only a few minutes of her time, nothing more.”

“That can be arranged,” Lilith lied through her teeth, for she certainly did not intend to yield to those terms. At the present moment, though, she needed to get back to Greendale. “So long as you agree to keep Ambrose unharmed, alive and well until then.” 

She did not give him time to object simply because she could not afford that time. Within the blink of an eye Lilith was gone, and Prudence along with her. 

They shortly materialized in the Spellman living room, Lilith’s breath catching in her throat the second she laid eyes on Zelda. The shock was mutual all around; Hilda and Sabrina were both startled to see their Queen and their sister witch seemingly brought in with the breeze. 

“Prudence,” gasped Sabrina, getting to her feet to wrap the other girl in a hug that seemed to surprise each of them in equal amount. “Where’s Ambrose?”

“I…” Prudence faltered, shaking her head. This was all quite a lot to process, having flown with the Queen of Hell through time and space and whatever other dimensions barred their way, landing in the middle of a confusing and unexpected scene in the home of her High Priestess. “My father still has him,” she answered, somewhat distracted as she studied the goings-on between the Spellman sisters. Hilda was knelt beside the sofa, pressing a washcloth to Zelda’s temples. “What’s—-what’s happened to your aunt—-to Sister Spellman?”

Before Sabrina could attempt to explain, Hilda was piping up in a voice calm and soothing, “Just a little fainting spell, nothing more. Lack of proper food and sleep, too many cigarettes and not enough—-”

“I can _hear_ you, Hilda,” Zelda muttered, only to be shushed by Lilith herself. 

The Queen stepped forward, and there came a small gust of wind as though she had broken through a barrier of some sort. In fact, she had done just that. During the time it took for Prudence and Sabrina to have their reunion, Lilith channeled deep into her witch’s intuition, far enough to link up with her High Priestess’s own magical energy. There she could see and feel for herself the strain on Zelda’s system, the way worry and exhaustion had taken a toll on the witch’s reserves of power and resulted in physical distress. 

“Save your strength,” was what she said aloud. Perched on the arm of the sofa, she placed two fingers to Zelda’s forehead, just between her eyes. 

Hilda looked from Lilith to her sister and back again, then very slowly began to retreat, washcloth still in hand. On the rare occasion Zelda ever fell ill, she had historically refused to be cared for by anyone except her sister. Hilda, a natural caretaker if there ever was one, rather smugly wore that privilege like a badge of honor. Now, watching Zelda submit to someone else’s fawning over her… well, Hilda reminded herself, this was the Queen of Hell, after all. They were now the Church of Lilith and this was Lilith, in the flesh, doing the fawning. 

“Hilda,” Lilith began without looking up, as though she knew the exact train of thought currently going through the younger Spellman sister’s head, “Tell me what happened, if you please.”

“Well, ah…” Hilda felt her cheeks flush pink, simply for the fact that all eyes in the room were on her and Zelda was conscious and awake and would no doubt correct her at any turn. She wrung the washcloth between her hands, never mind that doing so caused it to drip, drip, drip onto the floor. “Zelda came down for breakfast a good spot later usual and she looked…” Hellfire, this was going to get her a dirty look now and likely some cold words later. “…She didn’t look her usual self, and that set me to worrying right off the bat, and before I could manage to get any food or tea into her she… she fainted dead away. Out cold, until just before you popped in.” 

As predicted, Zelda’s objection came right away. “Oh, Hilda, you make it sound so dramatic—-”

“Pardon me, but in all the years I’ve been your sister never once have I seen you look as…” _Oh, Satan help you, Hilda Spellman…_ “…As pasty and ill as you did before you passed out. _Passed out_ , Zelda, never once have you done _that_ , either!”

Just to add fuel to the fire, Sabrina chimed in her two-cents as well. “It _was_ awfully intense, Auntie Zee.”

“Enough,” said Lilith, and that was the end of that. 

“My sisters,” Prudence spoke up, “May I—-are they still here?”

Hilda and Sabrina exchanged a glance, one that told Sabrina this was her duty. “They’re staying in the old Academy, we couldn’t house everyone all at once. They’ll be here shortly for morning class in the greenhouse—-”

“Classes today will be canceled,” was Lilith’s decree and, again, that was that. “Sabrina, kindly escort Prudence to the Academy so that she may reunite with her sisters, and please spread the word to everyone that today is an impromptu holiday.”

Hilda’s mouth fell open and then subsequently closed without a sound, for she knew better than to try to argue her case for the Tuesday morning potions session. A knot had begun to tie itself tight in the pit of her stomach; if Lilith herself was making that call and Zelda did not object that meant Zelda must be too unwell to object and Lilith likely knew that to be true. Hilda looked again at her sister, whose eyes were closed and whose cheeks had yet to regain any color whatsoever. This was not good, not in the least, and they still had yet to hear any details of Lilith’s visit to Blackwood. 

But Sabrina, nonetheless, received an encouraging nod and words echoing the same sentiment from her Aunt Hilda. “Go on, then, love. Dorcas and Agatha will be bowled over to see you, Prudence.”

“Wait,” said Sabrina, the word clearly directed toward Lilith. “Prudence says Blackwood still has Ambrose—-how is that possible? Is he hurt? Is he—-”

The Queen of Hell silenced her with a mere click of her tongue. “Ambrose wasn’t on the grounds when I arrived. Prudence answered the door, and took me into Blackwood’s study. I assure you Ambrose is unharmed, and will remain so until I can safely bring him home.”

“And when will that _be_?” Sabrina pressed on despite a gentle _”hush”_ from Hilda. 

With two fingers still pressed to Zelda’s forehead, Lilith could feel the witch’s temperature rising and her magical forces ebbing in correlation. This was not the ideal time to put forth what information she had to deliver, but it needed to be said one way or the other. 

“Soon,” she said, keeping her voice very deliberately cool and even, “There are extenuating circumstances surrounding Ambrose’s safe return.”

“What sort of circumstances?” This time the question came from Zelda, who had propped herself up on one elbow despite Lilith’s attempt to stop her. “What does Faustus want?”

“You.” Before Zelda could react, Lilith had a hand against her shoulder, gingerly guiding her back down to the sofa cushion. “He claims he requires only a few minutes of your time—-alone, in his chambers, which I will not permit.”

Zelda’s eyes fluttered rapidly, breathing shallow once more. Was it possible for one to pass out when already lying down…

“I’ll do it,” Sabrina said, defiant as ever, “I’ll go in your place, Auntie Zee, I’ll put on a glamor and he’ll never know—-”

“Absolutely _not_ ,” Zelda managed in her most declarative tone, “I—-I’ll go, I need to rest a while and then—-”

“Absolutely not,” countered Lilith, “Not today, not tomorrow, and perhaps not even the day after that. We will go together, when I see fit.” She looked up at Sabrina once more, brows raised in expectation. “Get going, Sabrina, and do get the word out before students start arriving here.”

Once the three women were left alone, Hilda swallowed against that awful knot and reached over to slip off her sister’s shoes in hopes of making Zelda even the slightest bit more comfortable.

“Hilda, I can do that myself if I—-” Struggling to sit up backfired almost immediately. Once again, Zelda found herself helplessly dizzy and sank back down onto the sofa cushion with a hand over her eyes. She wished to disappear, wished for a black hole to swallow her into some terminal void. Hilda seeing her this way was one thing; Lilith, on the other hand… 

“Hilda.” Lilith spoke calmly, almost sweetly as she laid out her instructions. “Pack a small bag for your sister, please. Clothing, toiletries, whatever she may need for a few days away from home.” 

“I—-” Hilda looked worriedly from Lilith to Zelda and back again. Her heart was pounding a mile a minute. _Pack_ for Zelda?! Sure, if the goal was to get herself good and killed after the fact. “—-I think you should take care of that yourself, Zelds, don’t you?”

“I certainly would like to, yes, but I…” Oh, she knew she wasn’t up to it. Not with the way her head was pounding and the room still tilting this way and that. “Where am I going?” she nearly whispered, and when she looked up at Lilith she saw those blue, blue eyes and red lips just as she had in her dream. 

“You’re unwell.” As though Lilith was not stating the obvious. “A combination of physical and mental stress has put you in this state, weakened your magic so that your body is suffering ill effects. You need to be able to recuperate somewhere without chaos or distraction. I have such a place in mind, and I’ll stay there with you so that no harm can come to you before we journey to Blackwood in order to free Ambrose.”

Too exhausted to do anything else and suddenly paralyzed by the thought of being without her Queen’s protection, Zelda merely nodded her agreement.

Tears welled in Hilda’s eyes, if only for the simple fact that Lilith was right. The Spellman home in its current state was no place for an ailing Zelda to recover, even if Hilda herself were to spend every waking moment doting on her. 

“Can we keep in touch?” she wanted to know, voice wavering a bit, “Through the, ah, the candles, perhaps?” 

“Of course,” assured Lilith, and that came as a relief to both Spellman sisters.

Hilda smiled as best she could, wiping at her eyes. Crying, for her, held no shame. “Suppose I ought to get packing that bag, then, Zelds?”

“My hair pins are in the—-”

“Top left drawer in your vanity, I know, I know. And your favorite robe is the fancy silk one I sewed for you, and you’ll want Grandmother Frances’s hairbrush, that’s on your vanity as well. Anything else?” A beat, and then Hilda added, “Besides the essentials of course, ah… dresses, slips, undergarments, cosmetics bag…”

“Go with your gut, sister,” Zelda said, meaning it, “If I find myself lacking something dire, I’ll have you send it one way or another.” 

Off Hilda went, then, leaving the Queen and her High Priestess downstairs. Only after her footsteps could be heard up above did Zelda let herself begin to cry, and Lilith stroked her hair until the time came for them to depart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as usual, feedback welcome! thanks for reading!  
> also as usual i am terrible at titling literally anything so please excuse the probably too cliché kate bush lyric  
> xo,  
> c


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